Brilliant Sky
by Delathen
Summary: I'd lived a disappointing life, and died a disappointing death. I figured that was enough. Then I woke up, to a new sky and a new birth. SI
1. The Pre-Dawn Grey

_**Brilliant Sky**_

 _Chapter One: The Pre-Dawn Grey_

* * *

(sora) 空 (sora)

* * *

I lived a disappointing life.

Simple enough thing to say, really. Never finished that college degree, left my first real job, and wound up with the steering column of my crappy car where my heart used to be.

I'd like to blame it on a lack of direction, of … destiny, I suppose; but really, I just wasn't all that terribly motivated of a guy.

I'd lived a disappointing life, and died a disappointing death. I figured that was enough.

Then I woke up.

* * *

(moto) 元 (moto)

* * *

'Waking up' might be a bit of a misnomer; 'becoming aware' is probably the right way to say it. I _knew_ , certain as I knew the sky was blue, that I had to be dead. I hadn't really felt my ribs cave in, but I saw… just so much of my own blood, felt the way I just _couldn't breathe_ no matter what I did, that I knew when I closed my eyes it was for the last time.

With that as my last image, the first thing I was aware of was the press of the most sinfully comforting blanket I'd ever known. It was the perfect temperature, and it fit me perfectly, just tight enough to know that it would stretch with me.

The next thing my groggy mind understood was the steady beat that thrummed through my body, calming me like the rocking of a boat (and if you've never had a chance to lean back in a boat on a gentle day, you owe it to yourself). I knew that I was _safe_.

The last thing I became aware of, and the one that rocked me right out of my complacency was the fact that _I couldn't breathe_. I squirmed, trying desperately to take that life-giving breath, and found that nothing would come; I couldn't coordinate the muscles, and it felt like my lungs were full of water.

I started panicking, thrashing my limbs, until it began to hit me _that I was still alive_. I couldn't breathe, but I was alive.

Calming down a little, I felt my racing heart slow down, but still beating way too fast.

' _Alright, think._ ' I told my protesting mind, ' _I can't see, I can't breathe, and I can barely move._ '

For a moment that stretched into eternity, I entertained the thought that I was in a hospital, that I was getting some kind of experimental, ultra-sciency treatment that would heal my ruined lungs, fix my broken body.

And then I felt the pressure from outside, so softly, gently imprinting on the inside of my blanket that my mind went blank. The pressure itself wasn't the cause of my breakdown, if anything it felt comforting.

What caused me to let go of rational thought was the fact that I could discern the shape of the imprint. It was big – as big as my arm – and it was _the point of a finger, nail and all_.

* * *

(umare) 生まれ (umare)

* * *

I don't know how long I hung there, in the pressing darkness (' _the darkness of the womb,_ ' my unhelpful mind provided), but eventually I came to myself. Things were changing; shifting. I had never really been able to tell which way was up, but now my whole world was moving. I could feel myself, my _tiny helpless infant body_ contorting as I flipped, and felt the world – below me? above me? – stutter like a hammer blow.

I had no idea what was going on until I felt the Squeeze. And it deserved capital letters – it felt like my whole body would be crushed to paste and I was about to end my second debut into life even more pathetically than my first.

Finally, my head broke free and the rest of me followed, and I took that _desperate_ , needy breath, filling my lungs for the first time in too long. And promptly started to cry the poor aching organs out in relief, in joy at finally feeling _free_ again.

I vowed from that day on that I would never take my life for granted again, that I would never let myself be constrained, never let myself be captive again.

I kept my vow, though I found it to be the hardest thing I would ever do.

I kept my vow to fly the brilliant sky.

* * *

A/N

* * *

 **How many of these are there now? Silver Queen has definitely lead the charge, and there now so many, many brilliant writers that have jumped on board. After much too much lurking, I figure that I should offer my own meager talents, and I hope add some small degree of enrichment to an already heady brew.**

 **As a lurker and a wide reader, I've come across many ideas I like, and I have some plans for where I want to go with Brilliant Sky. Please feel free to correct my many errors, and I'd be happy to hear from you on ideas and conceits you might like to see.**

 **Recommendation:** "Dreaming of Sunshine", by Silver Queen (stid: 7347955). This beautiful and kind Kiwi (I hope she doesn't kill me for that ) has redefined the SI genre for so many of us, and her Shikako is one of the most _alive_ characters I've ever read.


	2. First (red) Light

_**Brilliant Sky**_

 _Chapter Two: First (Red) Light of Dawn_

* * *

空

* * *

I kept bawling my little infant eyes out even as I felt myself being wrapped in what I could only assume was a blanket, and took the deepest breath I could as the world swirled around me again. After so long in the near total sensory deprivation of my prison, I felt nearly deafened by the noise of large bodies moving, of the overpowering stench that assaulted my nose, of the almost oppressive feel of the open air I could feel on the skin of my face.

After a brief moment of vertigo, I found myself surrounded by warm walls of flesh, the scent of blood and something else strong in the air. I felt comforted, at peace, even though this was one of the least peaceful experiences I'd ever had. It occurred to me that I was in my, I suppose second, mother's grip.

I struggled to open my eyes, to take in the woman that had carried me, brought me into this new life. It was hard, but as I finally got control of my breathing, I was able to squeeze the lids apart enough to let light, glorious blinding light strike my optic nerves. And wow, it hurt, and I couldn't really discern anything more than light and dark blobs, but…

There she was. I could see the pale skin, the dark bangs that surrounded her face, and dark shadows where her eyes and mouth must be. Her mouth was turned upwards in what I hoped was a smile, and her arms felt warm as she slid me closer.

She spoke, and though my ears worked no better than my eyes, I could clearly hear her welcome me into the world. Her words made me both elated and sad. Elated, because I could (somewhat) speak the language she spoke them in, and sad, because I knew that my first name was truly dead and gone, and that I would probably never see my family – correction, my first family – again.

"Yoroshiku, Sasuke."

I fell asleep to the sound of her breathing.

* * *

佐助 (Sasuke)

* * *

I blame the trauma of my birth and the relief of my freedom for how long it took me to find out where I was.

Added to that was the tingle I had under my skin that wasn't there in my last life. It felt like static running alongside my veins. I couldn't figure out what it was, not until much later when I 'unlocked' my chakra for the first time. It was distressing, and led to more than one frustrated session of rage, or baby tantrums as they're more commonly known.

I was also uncomfortably aware of the terrible control I had of my bowels, and embarrassed that I could only keep my mother's milk down half of the time. It's hard not to become attached to someone that loves you enough to deal with your shit with such kindness.

There was another who wormed their way into my tiny heart. I can only assume he was my brother, because he was always there, and held me whenever he could. He had mom's hair, and her dark eyes. I remembered my own brother, and wondered if we'd play just as rough when the time came.

What must have been a few months passed peacefully. I was introduced, or more properly, my mother bragged while I was present to many others with similar dark hair and darker eyes that came by our home. Some had lighter hair, and I think I even saw one woman with the most extraordinarily _red_ hair.

And then one night when my brother held me, the world caught on fire.

* * *

狐火 (kitsunebi)

* * *

I'll never forget that night. An ominous wind was whistling through the posts of the wrap-around porch of our home, and my brother stood holding me, looking out over the yard.

In an instant, the sky turned _red_ , and the screaming started.

"Yoshi, yoshi" was all my brother could say, comforting me, as the ground shook. We stepped into the courtyard just as the first chunks of rubble fell around us. I still couldn't see very well, but I could see _entire chunks of buildings_ falling around my brother as he grabbed me close, and our home shattered.

I still don't like to think about the bodies, some of them with faces I was starting to recognize, littering the cracked flagstones.

I've blocked out as much as I can of the rush my brother took us on, to find someplace _safe_ , but I cannot forget the weight in the air. I could taste the anger, the rage and the despair like a cloud, covering me, suffocating my precious lungs _that I was never going to take for granted again_. I imagine this must be what cowering next to a Nazgul must be like, lying broken and cold while malice greater than human gazed upon you.

In the space between one building and the next, I saw something, something huge and red like the color of bright blood in the dim light of evening. My eyes could not see distance at all, but still I could discern the flickering shape of arms, or tentacles or something else wavering off the great mass, and the destruction they caused as they ripped the homes of my neighbors apart like toothpicks.

I trust you'll pardon me if I tell you that I broke a little inside that day. I like to think I'm a fairly tough guy, but this… this was something beyond mortal comprehension. I couldn't even _see_ properly, which made it all the worse as the stones and buildings and _bodies_ continued to rain down around us.

Finally, brother got us into a safe place, high in a stone stronghold that seemed protected from the Eldritch horror. We were safe, and I decided in that moment that I loved brother more than I had loved anybody in my new life.

I don't know how, but I slept through the rest of that night. In the morning, the world changed for my family, though I wouldn't know the half of it for a while.

* * *

感得 (kantoku)

* * *

One day, I opened my eyes and I saw.

This might sound like a pretty lame thing, but I could finally _see_ properly. Depth perception was mine once more, and I was never letting that bitch go again!

With my newfound powers, I turned my eyes to mom once more. This time, I saw her beautiful face, her kind eyes… that were black. Not brown, black.

' _huh._ '

I twisted to look at my brother. His eyes were black too.

' _weird._ '

I glanced over to the wall. There had been a picture, or a painting hanging there that I had always liked. The red and white colors appealed to me, for some reason.

This time, with the fine motor control that comes with development, the shape resolved into a white fan, with a wide red blade shaped like a crescent.

' _wait…_ '

The man I had associated with 'father' walked in and said, "Itachi-kun, come with me. We are looking over the new training fields today."

…

Shit.

* * *

A/N

* * *

 **First Posted: 2016/10/25**

 **Edited:**

 **Well that was fun! Going back to view some of the Kyuubi attacks! episodes, this time with the view of "If I were small and helpless already, what would living through this be like?" made me realize that there is genuine horror potential in the Naruto tale. Great beasts, stronger than any number of soldiers, wander the land, able to break mountains. And what must be even more terrifying, there are humans able to match them, one-on-one, in open battle.**

 **Can you imagine what Kyuubi in New York would be like? With no Minato to sacrifice himself to seal it away? What could conventional weapons (short of bombs that would do more damage than the fox itself) do against a mass of chakra that's self-healing, self-forming, and tougher than steel?**

 **Makes it a tiny bit easier to understand the fear that led to Naruto's shunning.**

 **Recommendation:** "Dragonfly", by Kettobase (stid: 10796824). This story is the one that finally convinced me to try my own hand at writing a DoS-style rebirth SI, and is exceptionally well written. Kettobase has such a wonderful way of looking at the world, and seeing the little treasures that are so easy to miss. This story is of a reborn Uchiha that decides she wants to go back to her old life more than she wants to change a story set in stone, and is one of the best rebuttals of fate that I've ever read on this site.

 **Til next time!**


	3. Lightening Horizon

_**Brilliant Sky**_

 _Chapter Three: The Lightening Horizon (a new plan)_

* * *

空

* * *

' _What the hell is happening?_ ' My mind raced. I had had a great deal of time in my last life that wasn't devoted to work or much of anything else, and so I had filled the time with no end of games and shows that, in retrospect, I was becoming slightly grateful for.

I had been a fairly big fan of Naruto, bingeing through the whole series in just a few months. Something about ' _ninja_ ' seemed awesome to me, and the more I watched, the more I wanted to see.

I had hated Sasuke at first, because just about the only thing I could think about when I saw him was, "what a bitch."

Well, what goes around comes around, and this time the bitch was me.

My new-found realization did not come with a cascade of trumpets. There was no earth-shattering kaboom to herald my enlightenment, no swell of angelic chords to announce, ' _this is an important event._ '

No, about all that this revelation amounted to that day was an exasperated sigh from my mother (from _Mikoto_ ) and a long-suffering look from my father ( _Fugaku!_ ) as he led my parent-slaughtering elder brother out of our home.

I might have forgotten to mention the attempt I made at screaming myself silly. After all, I had died just half a year ago. I did not relish the thought of dying again, or seeing those close to me die.

And I was close to my new family. It would take a colder bastard than I to not be filled with gratitude at all that my parents and my brother did to take care of me.

Eventually I got my equilibrium back, and started thinking, remembering all I could of Sasuke's – of my – life before the slaughter. I turned all the details I could remember over and over in my head to find a loophole, some out that would keep my clan alive through the coming storm.

The thought of not acting never crossed my mind.

My thoughts turned to Danzo. ' _Nothing I can do there._ ' And it was true; to affect him in any way I had to be close to him, and at my age at any point before the slaughter I would need to become one of his ROOT slaves. Slaves, by definition, did not contribute to policy or plans.

Appeal to the Hokage directly? ' _Not for years. Not until long after the stage is set, and even then…_ ' For all that the show had tried to make Sarutobi Hiruzen, Third Fire Shadow of the Leaf, out to be a wise, kindly figure, I could never wipe from my memory the fact that he was a military dictator, and that he _trusted Danzo_. With trust and rapport, I thought it might be possible to at least convince the Hokage to look over Danzo's actions more carefully, but those took time. Time that an infant or a toddler would never be able to have with a busy leader. I remembered that Naruto had been close to the Sandaime at a very young age, but I also knew that was based much more around his status as a jinchuuriki and being the son of his successor than any great effort on the Hokage's part to ingratiate the youth of the village.

Maybe… maybe I could try to appeal to him by one of the blunt statements of youth. " _That one-eyed guy always looks like he's hungry when I'm in the room_ " would be tempting to say, but… there was no way that it would be taken seriously. Not without having a reputation for noticing things others had missed, and in a village of observant ninja, I did not have confidence in my acting skills.

So, the Hokage was out, or at best a long-term project based more on luck than planning.

That really only left the clan itself, or Itachi. And wow, I had already compartmentalized my _brother-saviour-warm-hands_ as separate from the character I had seen and somewhat admired. That concept took me a few moments to wrap my mind around before I could continue my mother-saving prequest planning.

…

I didn't know where to start in stopping Itachi from killing everybody. He was a genius – a certifiable, genuine article genius that could understand a jutsu in a glance, spinney-wheel eyes or not. There was nothing I could do, no argument I could think of that would allow me to appeal to the aloof shinobi of my memories.

And so, without having a clue of where to start, it was decided that I, a 6-month old baby with a full diaper, was going to change a resentful clan of murderers into a happy, loyal clan. Of murderers.

I doubted I'd be able to swing any amendment on that last point.

* * *

育ち (sodachi)

* * *

It of course did not take me long to realize that I wasn't going to be able to do anything until I grew a bit. My first attempts at speaking, while adorable, were also lacking. I could somewhat crawl, but walking was still a distant dream. My hands lacked the coordination for anything more complex than wrapping around a bottle.

And so, I resigned myself to enjoying my position as the baby. It meant that I spent a great deal of time with mother and Itachi. Now that I was more aware of the world around me, I could see that, while very warm with me, mother was either not fond of our extended family, or it was expected of the clan head's wife to be aloof and cool.

It got a little worrying, to be honest. Mother would hold me close, much longer than I'd have expected when she wasn't cooking, or keeping our home. About the only one she'd hand me over to was Itachi, even favoring him over father.

Fugaku was… interesting. I rarely saw him, and even more rarely would I hear him. He spoke to Itachi more regularly, in my hearing, about jutsu and stories of great heroes of the clan's past.

One of these stories stuck with me.

* * *

むかしむかし (mukashi mukashi)

* * *

 _Once, there was a mighty Uchiha. He had gained the revered Sharingan as a youth, and trained them such that they could perceive all the traps his enemies laid before him._

 _He lived in a time of great strife, when the clan was small and the world was large, and full of those that would take from the clan their freedom. Already, he had lost his beloved sister to kidnappers that killed her before he could complete his rescue. He swore to the kami that day that none would betray him again, for it had been those who pretended to be friends of the clan that took her._

 _And so his oath was heard by the mighty Susano'o, He Who Helps by Any Means. His eyes were touched with power more than mortal, such that he could see into the hearts of those he gazed upon._

 _With his great power, he looked first to the servants of the clan, those that had joined in times past to weather the wars under the Uchiha fan. In them he found small deceits, a desire to sell reserved weapons here, a hiding of valuable meats there. He swiftly punished them their temerity, and dismissed them, figuring small treacheries would foment into great betrayals. And thus, the clan was safe._

 _Next he looked upon the allies of the Clan, those who had proclaimed themselves friends of the Uchiha, defenders of their confederates as they were themselves defended. In them he found great fears, and desires to find allies among the clans that the Uchiha were at war with. He severed the clan's bond with them, and declared that any such that came to his door would be met with a sword. And thus, the clan was safe._

 _For some years did the mighty warrior lead the Clan, until one day they were betrayed from within. The warrior's nephew, the son of his beloved sister he had lost, saw that the Uchiha were small, having none that married in, for the warrior saw the deceit in their hearts, and that they had few weapons, for the warrior trusted no blacksmith's honor. They had no lands, for no Lord was free of envy that the warrior could see. They had no retainers, for the warrior had no trust in those seeking shelter with the Clan._

 _And so the nephew sought allies of his own, that were promised that the Uchiha would stand with them if they helped him overthrow the warrior's leadership of the Clan._

 _On the appointed day, the nephew approached his uncle, and offered to go hunting with him. As they had no meat for the table that night, the uncle agreed, and they set out from the Clan's hidden home. Once they were far from sight of the entrance, the nephew attacked his uncle's unguarded back, running an arrow through his heart. In one step, the mighty warrior was dead, for he had never thought to look upon the hearts of his own clan._

 _The nephew returned to find that those he had called ally burning his home, and driving the few children of the clan away from the corpses of their parents they had slain. The nephew burned with hatred, for his betrayal was answered with betrayal, his silent murder with silent murder._

 _He drove off the pretenders, slaying any of the children of the Clan he could not rescue. He lead the survivors far from the pyre he made of their home, and as he lay dying from wounds he received in the fight, appointed the warrior's son, but a stripling, to lead. He commanded, "As your father failed to see loyalty in the hearts of our allies, so I have failed to see their treachery. Trust not the blade you do not command, nor the hand you have not raised. Go, and build better than we."_

* * *

静かな希望 (shizuka na kibou)

* * *

I could read between the lines easily enough to see that the Uchiha warrior had gained the Mangekyou Sharingan from seeing his sister killed. I could only assume that the "power to see into hearts" was one of the many bullshit abilities the Uchiha of the story I remembered seemed to pull out at the drop of a hat. I could also see that he went as insane as any of those same Uchiha, gone mad with power and distrust.

I could kind of sympathize with him, to be honest. Losing family like that, to friends you trusted… I agreed with the nephew, the warrior wasn't doing anyone any good where he was, but it was hard not to see the warrior's point, his want, his need to not be betrayed again. I hoped he died before realizing who had shot that arrow.

What stuck with me more, though, was the nephew's last words. From what I could recall of the tension leading up to the massacre, the Uchiha Clan – _my_ clan – were suspected by Danzo and perhaps even the Hokage of unleashing the Kyuubi on the village. This was based on rumors that Uchiha Madara, after abandoning the clan and the village he cofounded, held some sort of control over the beast in his war with the Shodaime.

Wanting to keep an eye on the Clan, they moved us to the edge of the village, where we were surrounded and spied on constantly. There was something niggling my memory, an image of Itachi himself participating in this espionage as part of ANBU.

In response, the Clan became belligerent, though I couldn't remember any standout scene from the show of this being shown. Apparently, the threat of us rebelling was real enough for Danzo to murder us, instead of talking.

I wondered how much of that belligerence came from the nephew's words. They were the commands of an absolute authority, not of a leader that was a part of a greater whole. Those words were probably great advice for the warrior's son – after all, the Clan was still here, and had grown to number in the hundreds, but now, in the reality of the Clan being subordinate to the village, I wondered if we had adjusted our sights to the glory of our home alongside the glory of the Clan, rather than opposed to it.

Maybe this was the chink in the brick wall I had in front of me. Maybe, if I could help Fugaku to see that the village was as important as the clan, he could lead us out of this mess alive.

I spent that night dreaming of ways to bring us into the village's fold.

* * *

A/N

* * *

 **First Posted: 2016/11/14**

 **Updated:**

 **This was fun to write. I have some very definite ideas of where I want to go, and so many ways of getting there. Let me know what you think!**


	4. Dawn

_**Brilliant Sky**_

 _Chapter 4: Dawn_

* * *

空

* * *

Now that I could see properly, the days passed like a swift mountain river. Mother must have noticed my eyes tracing the kanji hanging on our walls, because she had me trace the basic kana with finger paints at about the same time as I started walking.

I'm not sure if that's normal behavior for here (after all, kana are more varied and interesting than the alphabet I grew up with), or if even then it was expected that the younger brother of Uchiha Itachi would of course excel at everything.

Because even now, with Itachi barely five years old, it was obvious he was different. Faster in both mind and body, he breezed through whatever challenges father gave him. When he threw a kunai, it was clear he was already thinking of the kunai after the next one – some of his trick shots would make a pool player from Vegas I knew weep with envy.

One day, when the sun was shining and the wind was not as sharp, Itachi made his first kill.

I saw him hit a wagtail out of flight. It was at least thirty meters in the sky, and he took it dead center.

At dinner that night, he had a somber look to his face as mom prepared his catch.

That was another thing I noticed in my brother – he was always thinking about something. At times I fancied I could hear the well-oiled machine of his mind churning through whatever occupied his attention.

And I often got the chance to notice. It seemed that Itachi spent whatever spare moment he had with me. He would hold me when I was still stuck spending my days wrapped in a blanket, but as I gained more control over my muscles and protested in the strongest possible terms for my freedom (ie, wriggling with a pathetic look in my eye), he would set me on the tatami and watch as I crawled about.

I believe I earned the Brother of the Year award when, on a warming day with pink blossoms on the breeze, I opened my mouth at dinner and said, "onii-chan!"

The smile on Itachi's kindly face would melt snow.

I caught a flash of red from the corner of my eye and turned my head. Mother, Mikoto, had the sappiest look to her as she watched her sons.

Her eyes were glowing red.

My own eyes widened as I realized that this was the Sharingan, the infamous Copy Wheel Eye that generations had fought and bled for. Something of my dumbstruck state must have communicated itself to mom (probably my gaping mouth), because she leaned closer to me to allow for a better view.

The Sharingan was beautiful. It was red, so very darkly red, that it took me a moment to recognize the color. I had once sliced my finger to the bone when sharpening a knife. In the first second after the blade slipped, all I could do was look blankly at my hand, not quite yet grasping what had happened. I remember the red coming out around the metal – it was deep, it was dark, and it seemed to mean more than just a peculiar shade of iron when paired with oxygen in hemoglobin. It meant life to me, my life.

That was the color of mother's eyes.

They were mesmerizing. I felt I could get lost and swim in them forever. I noticed the tomoe, that were the same pitch black of her pupils, swirling lazily around the center of the crimson iris.

I pushed myself forward slightly to follow their path as they made their slow circuit, when abruptly they faded into the returning sable of Mikoto's natural eye color.

Like waking from a dream I came to myself and shook my head. Mom's goofy smile had faded into not quite a frown, but certainly not a happy cant. Her eyes were sad.

Father said something I didn't quite catch. For all that I had spoken Japanese in my last life, it had been nearly a decade since I had used it regularly, and my parents did not accommodate my comprehension speed like many of my friends from years past had.

Mikoto answered with a short "hai," and that was that. Her smile returned, though it wasn't as bright as before.

Turning back to Itachi, I noted that his smile had not faded by one lumen, and that he seemed not to have listened to a single word from either of our parents. He reached over to pick me up, but seemed to hesitate at a cough from father.

Instead he extended his arm to pat me on the head. He couldn't quite reach, and ended up tapping me dead center on the forehead with his index and middle finger.

I blinked. Then I gave the kid the nastiest look I could manage.

The chuckles from around the table told me that I had not succeeded in dissuading my brother from trying that again, and I grumbled to myself (which sounded like adorable burbling) as I realized that I had probably just cemented Itachi's trademark Poke of Brotherly Affection as our primary means of communication.

And life was good.

* * *

悪夢 (akumu)

* * *

 _Red._

 _Red was all I saw, filling my eyes._

 _Red was all I felt, burning my flesh in fire and rubble, buildings falling._

 _Red was all I felt, red anger that blazed brightly, and naked fear in my heart as I peered through the dust and falling stone of my home collapsing around me._

 _I saw red eyes, the size of cars, staring at me. Great veins the size of boa constrictors pumped crimson into the glowing iris, as the slit pupils, longer than I was tall, bore into me like a drill. Great tomoe, that almost glowed BLACK with their malice, swirled around us, choking us in the miasma of their control._

 _I felt the roar before I heard it, rattling my bones like a car wreck as I saw the light pole in my windscreen again, felt my wheels skidding on the ice as I flew at the -_

"GAAAAAUUUGGGHHAHAAHAAA!"

I came to myself wrapped in another's arms, great arms that held me with strength like steel. I wept into the broad shoulder I was rested against as memories of blood and oil-stained snow slowly faded back into the pit dug for them.

"Calm, Sasuke. Papa is here. In these arms you are safe."

I calmed as I soaked in father's words. Life here had been frustrating. I was worse than a prisoner, because my watchers truly loved me, and wanted to set me free the moment I proved I could. My tiny body would not listen to me most of the time, even – especially – not when trying to control its bodily functions. I was helpless, weak, and lonely, not being able to meaningfully communicate with the world around me.

But I was alive. And as father said, I was safe. We had survived terror together already, and I knew that I would be free to move myself again soon.

I tried to tell Fugaku all of this with my eyes. I doubt a word of it got through, but something about the gentle firmness in his eyes told me he understood my message clearly. He sat next to my crib and gently rocked me.

I slipped into a dreamless sleep to the sound of his breathing.

A/N

 **First Posted: 2017/02/03**

 **Edited:**

 **This was hard to write. Events and directions from Act II kept stealing my attention, and it wasn't until I began thinking about Itachi's first casualty that words started to flow.**

 **My respect for you writers that have written door-stopper length epics grows every day.**

 **Recommendation:** "Yet, mad I am not", by Erisah Mae (stid: 10675898). This is perhaps the single greatest dissection of PTSD and the road to recovery/moving on that I've ever read on this site. Basic premise is that Itachi, in his final battle with Sasuke, dies. He wakes up in a prison cell, and breaks his way free. The story goes from there, and is a genuine treat and delight to read. The author has a way of saying much while saying little, and deserves every ounce of praise you can offer :)


	5. Morning Glory

_**Brilliant Sky**_

 _Chapter 5: Morning Glory_

* * *

空

* * *

I had several nightmares like that first one. Something about Kaa-San's Sharingan must have brought my worst memories to the front of my subconscious mind, because in-between Kyuubi and my death was the looming specter of the Massacre. Seven years sounds like a long time, but I knew that it would be at my heels before I knew it.

I was desperate for something, anything that would let me ignore the flashbacks. Being so young, sadly, didn't leave many options.

So I pushed myself. Hard. I was balanced on my feet three days after Fugaku first held me from a night terror (a task he and Mikoto took in turns – and excelled at wonderfully. Whatever flaws they might have had as people, they were incredible at baby-comforting).

I was walking by seven.

Itachi was there nearly every step of the way. I still didn't know what to think of him, but as long as he was willing to be a good brother, I decided to accept that he would be – was already – a good friend.

I hoped that I would always be able to look at him that way. People born with kind souls like Itachi were needed in the world. They are the ones that heal scars and mend broken bridges, and I knew that there were plenty of both in our home.

* * *

経年 (Keinen)

* * *

Time passed.

That makes it sound so bland, like one of those rote statements that you just say "that's nice" to.

Every day I found it a little easier to get going. The nightmares never really stopped, if anything they got worse as I saw the Tomoe-eyed Kyuubi destroy my home again and again. Sometimes it was the neatly-kept stone and wood of Konoha, sometimes it was the great glass and steel towers of my home in Tokyo.

Other times, the worst times, it was the small town I had grown up in, the monstrous bulk of the Demon Fox of Nine Tails towering over the hills, fire and death flowing from him like a river.

And when I woke, all I could do was force myself to stand on shaking knees, and stumble to the door to be set free.

Mom, Mikoto, often greeted me with that soft-sad smile, her teardrop eyes angled in a way I didn't know how to read. But then it was breakfast, and by the time the cleaning was done, we were a happy family.

* * *

目覚め (Mezame)

* * *

It was on a hot summer night that the low level itch that always seemed to creep under my skin and along my veins erupted into full pins-and-needles. A dozen spiders chased a hundred centipedes up and down my arms, _through_ my legs and wrapped around my chest in bands of near-agony.

As the tingles flared into candle wicks of small flames I opened my mouth in a silent scream. I couldn't breathe, no air would pass into my lungs as the candles roared into torches and I felt _heat_ , genuine heat radiate off my body like a sprinter after a 100 yards, and then –

Peace. I gulped greedy lungfuls of precious oxygen as all the spiders stopped and the candles dimmed.

I felt different. There was something, something pulsing alongside my veins that hadn't been there before. For lack of a better word, it was like putting gas in a car, or water in a filter. I was _full_ , satisfied in a way that had nothing to do with food.

My small lips stretched in a manic grin as only one word filled my mind…

' _Finally…'_

* * *

Sudden and painful the awakening of my chakra may have been, but it was nothing to trying to figure out how to actually use it.

Mikoto and Fugaku didn't seem to notice any difference in me after that wonderful torturous night, but Itachi did. He would look at me with considering eyes that he hadn't pointed in my direction before, and I felt the irrational desire to blurt, "my chakra's awake!"

But, fine motor skill still eluded me, and I didn't trust my lips to firm up enough to even pronounce "chakra" yet.

Even so, Itachi would spend long stretches of time sat in front of me, his legs crossed and his hands out, palms front. I'm embarrassed to admit how long it took me to try reaching out with my own hands to rest, palm-to-palm, in my brother's.

I figured that this was either some exclusive Genius™ training method of bringing my chakra to the surface, or it was a 5 year old messing with his baby brother. Either way, I was game.

Life's boring as a baby – so sue me.

The first time we connected our palms, I couldn't feel anything – well, besides the odd stickiness that every child's hands seem to pick up without trying. Soon, Itachi began manipulating my fingers, bringing my hands together in weird shapes that made little sense to me, but, well, see the above about boredom.

Mikoto caught on the next day, her eyes flashing in surprise before she joined us on the tatami and took one of our hands each.

She was a lot better than Itachi at getting my fingers to tie themselves in knots. I'm not even sure how they could do that – there were bones in the way!

That night, she beamed at Fugaku and said, "our little weasel was teaching our restless one how to make castles in his hands."

"…" was all Fugaku could manage, his own eyes flaring in shock as he took us in, our faces open with toothy grins.

He managed an "As expected of my sons," with the gentlest smile I'd ever seen him wear.

It was a few moments before I realized that was pride in his eyes, pride in my tying my fingers up.

Then that I realized that my father and mother felt more than just a little love for me. I knew that this game had to be related to limbering me up to use hand seals, that it was a precursor to becoming a ninja, and yet…

And yet, I couldn't help the warm glow that filled my chest as I favored my father with a happy burble and a garbled "Tou-chan!"

* * *

指 (yubi)

* * *

That night, Fugaku was the one to settle me down in my bed – no crib here, which hadn't struck me as strange until just then – and favored me with a bedtime story.

Unlike every tale I'd overheard him give to Itachi, it wasn't about the great and illustrious history of the Uchiha.

 _Long ago, when the names of men were strange, the Great Sage taught the secrets of the Year._

 _First is Ne, the rat, hiding in the basket. His legs lie, dangling from the bottom._

 _Then slides Ushi, the Ox bold and free. See his head poking through the walls._

 _Next slinks Tora, the mighty Tiger. Poised and silent, he waits to leap._

 _Fourth is U, the running Hare. Always one foot forward as he dashes straight._

 _Then is Tatsu, the dragon coiled and grand. See him raise his head and his tail is long._

 _Next comes Mi, the snake wrapped tight. His head is hidden, shown only to his owner._

 _Seventh is Uma, the balancing Horse. How noble his stride, how high his mane._

 _Then is Hitsuji, but no sheep is he. Strong Ram aims his horns to the sky._

 _Next is Saru, the monkey, leaping in the trees. He lays flat his hands to balance on the leaves._

 _Tenth is Tori, the bird flying free. See his wings, firm in the breeze._

 _Then is Inu, the loyal Dog. Pat his head, and always will he follow._

 _Last is I, the Boar with his hoofs. His wrists are bent, his might is great._

With every line, he held his hands in the strangest shapes. I had never really thought about the hand signs before, what they meant or where they came from. I recognized Tora (it was the "Thousand Years of Pain" that also always seemed to show up with fire jutsu), but the rest were a mystery. Some of them looked unbelievably uncomfortable, like Boar, and others were just the strangest thing I could think of. Ox in particular looked like someone high fiving Spiderman in the middle of a swing.

Misgivings aside, I gave my father my full attention, not blinking once as the almost-song started again.

It took until the third time that I tried to follow along, my fingers far too clumsy to even make a beginning of the simplest form, but I could see the glint in his eye and the curl in his lips, so I played along for a few more runs before I let my eyes close and my form slump.

The last words I heard as Morpheus took me were a slow and reverent, "I expect you to do great things, Sasuke."

All I dreamed that night was a mouse wiggling its hind legs, it's head stuck in a bucket of cheese.

A/N

 **First Posted: 2017/08/13**


End file.
